God's Dark Hobby

If you new of all my unreachable dreams would you build me bridges to reach them or would you unloosen the ties on either end. Until I kissed the cold granite lips of reality and death... You act like a foe and sometimes a friend your flavor of love has a most peculiar blend. At times mercurial hot or blue glacial cold. I pray to reach that tepid glade of your beautiful soul. Our time has been jagged but we walk hand in hand over paths of black satin and spider webbed glass. I know most of my dreams have been only mirage but a facet of love is kneading hazy dream into collage. Seems our collective folly is God's darkest hobby. Our dual visions and dreams rarely seem to mesh paired petals navigating over fanged cataracts 'til they tumble into a cool black pool... called death.